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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27047917">Crossed Wires</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mndalorians/pseuds/mndalorians'>mndalorians</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, angst that ends with a little fluff, brief descriptions of injuries, fighting/arguing (resolved)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:40:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27047917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mndalorians/pseuds/mndalorians</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Emotions run high after Din was hurt protecting you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crossed Wires</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Electricity was always my worst area in physics so if the metaphor is a bit janky that’s why (you’d think I’d change it but no).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your anger crackled and arced around you as you bandaged Din’s shoulder, your lips set in a thin line, your focus on the wound in front of you rather than the blank visor staring at you, or his own fury that had sparked in response to yours.</p><p>If he didn’t say anything, then maybe you could hold your tongue long enough to escape up to the cockpit before you snapped.</p><p>‘I don’t—’</p><p>
  <em>—the red flash of a blaster shot that disappeared behind Din’s body when he jumped in front of you, the grunt upon impact, the fear that had slammed into you when you heard not the crack of beskar struck, but a thud against skin—</em>
</p><p>You jerked your head to the side, turning away momentarily to rid your mind of that awful image before finally looking – glaring – at him. ‘You didn’t need to do that, Din,’ you seethed, voice low.</p><p>‘What? You’d rather I let that shot hit you? Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done the same,’ he all but snarled, immediately proving his point when his hand came down to grip your thigh, right where your trouser leg concealed marred skin that stung like a confession beneath the heat of his palm.</p><p>You scowled as you threw the roll of medical tape back into the medikit and reached for the leftover scraps of gauze. ‘That’s different.’</p><p>Though you knew the only true difference was that <em>you</em> had chosen to throw yourself in front of him all those months ago. There had been no argument then, Din too consumed by the bloody gash across your leg and then too relieved to do anything more than take you into his arms and press you against his body, running a hand over your hair and whispering soothing words into your ear when your body refused to stop shaking.</p><p>Din’s injury wasn’t as severe – he at least had remained conscious – and deep down you knew your anger was unfounded, that it was fear twisted into something more, but it had been building alongside your adrenaline even before the blur of Din had crossed your vision. Building and building like a charge, volatile and anxious to be released, some way, somehow. In the calm of the <em>Razror Crest</em>, that energy had no way out but through Din, and when neither of you were the best at quelling your tempers, his anger surged to meet yours.</p><p>‘<em>Different?</em>’ Din pulled back and turned his head away from you, his shoulders rising, the muscles of his core tensing and rolling as he sucked in a deep breath.</p><p>You leaned back against the doors of the armoury, prepared for the outburst you had provided the spark for and thankful the child was snoozing in the cockpit, but then, unexpectedly, as if any fight within him was suddenly drained, his shoulders fell and he whispered: ‘that shot would’ve killed you.’</p><p>How quick the energy surrounding the two of you was to dissipate, that quiet statement (one you couldn’t disagree with, not when the bolt was aimed at your chest) acting like a grounding rod to your own fury, saving both of you from the catastrophe of a fight where your convictions were too tightly held for either of you to concede.</p><p>You looked away, your eyes landing on the beskar and ruined clothing discarded beside the cockpit ladder, pulled at a piece of gauze in your hands, the cut edge already fraying.</p><p>A pull of a trigger and you would have been no more had it not been for Din.</p><p>Maybe that was what had amplified your emotions, the knowledge that you had very nearly met your end unvoiced but present in the back of your mind, turned them up to eleven and kept them there. From the attack to seeing Din fall to the floor in front of you, the day had not been a peaceful one, and you supposed your emotions reflected that. But the day was over, you were tired, you wanted peace.</p><p>‘Din.’ He didn’t turn back to you; the only indication that he had heard you at all was the slight incline of his head.</p><p>You sighed and placed your hand against the side of his helmet, pushing just slightly against the metal to coax him into looking at you, and reached out with the other to grasp his own hand when the weight of his head fell into your palm.</p><p>‘I’m sorry, but promise me, no more grand acts of sacrifice. ’ You drew your thumb against the ridge below his visor, where you imagined his cheek would be.</p><p>‘I’m sorry too,’ Din let out a sigh of his own, and you were certain he was about to give you his word until he shook his head ‘But not for protecting you.’</p><p>‘Din—’</p><p>‘No. I’m not letting you get hurt if I can help it, or because of me. Not again.’ His hand left yours and landed on your thigh again, but it being there was not an accusation this time, rather an apology, his touch light, fingertips ever so slightly curling into the fabric.</p><p>Your voice was soft. ‘But I don’t want to see you hurt either.’</p><p>An impasse.</p><p>You loved each other too much to see the other in pain. Every cut, scrape, and blaster wound Din had received since you first met felt like a failure to protect him, and you had long ago made peace with the fact that you would die if it meant saving Din and the baby. You knew Din shared a similar sentiment when it came to his <em>aliit</em>, though you swore to yourself, no matter what happened, he would never die for you. What you didn’t know was that he felt the same way about you and your willingness to sacrifice yourself.</p><p>But it was such a selfish thing when you stripped back the layers of love. To want to protect someone, even at the cost of your life, but sought to deny them that same want with regards to you.</p><p>You were both guilty of it, but who would willingly submit to the pain of losing their love when it was <em>so easy</em> to jump in front of a knife or a shot and take that pain for themselves? Such suffering was momentary in comparison to the burden of loss that would weigh your shoulders and heart down for the rest of your life if you did nothing.</p><p>And did you not flinch when shocked? Did you not pull your hand away and cradle it to your body, shielding it from any more pain? Why was the instinctual reaction to save your beloved and protect yourself from an eternal heartache any different?</p><p>You were both selfish and that would never change.</p><p>Din gave no answer, didn’t have one <em>to</em> give, nothing that couldn’t have been thrown back in his face, no reason for you <em>not</em> to protect him at your own expense when he would readily do the same for you, and so silence reigned in the hull.</p><p>But it wasn’t long before Din’s hand found yours, a wordless truce that you accepted when you intertwined your fingers with his and allowed him to pull you towards him. You leaned forward and Din met you halfway, his helmet against your forehead, then he tugged you closer until you had to climb onto his lap because cuddling into his side just wasn’t enough for him. You dropped your head to rest against his uninjured shoulder and wrapped your arms around his midriff, your hands on the bare skin of his back enough to make a shiver run through him.</p><p>You would never be able to make that promise, not while Moff Gideon (somehow, inexplicably, alive) continued to search for the child and bounty hunters seemed to find you no matter how far across the galaxy you travelled, finding you even on the tiniest planets that were rarely found on any map.</p><p>Maybe it would end one day, with Gideon dead and anyone else who wanted the child gone, then you could settle somewhere safe – where such promises were redundant – somewhere forested and secluded from the rest of the world, with the baby in tow if you never found his kind.</p><p>But that day was not on the horizon.</p><p>All you could do in the meantime was fall into Din, hold him close and be thankful you were at least one day closer to that fantasy.</p>
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